Of the many catalogs that clog my mailbox, my favorite by far is the quarterly Ikea tome. I've learnt so much (and bought so little!) from its glossy, stark pages. For instance, when I'm next in Stockholm (no doubt checking out a Svek Records showcase), I'll be able to converse in faltering Ikean Swedish. I'll be able to discuss how much joy I get from my five-inch tall Snorra Kanin (or "plush bunny," in our vernacular). But I'll never learn the correct equivalent of "lovingly crafted," "expertly finished," or "lifetime guarantee." This upsets me because I would love to describe Richard Davies' raw, predictably over-achieving new album in the resilient language of home decorating. But though Barbarians arrives in flat packaging, no assembly is required.

Davies and his band have abandoned the polished production of 1998's Telegraph in favor of a live-sounding, plug-and-play ambience. Here, Davies provides critics with yet more reasons to throw laurels his way, and still further incentive for the public to ignore his obvious talents.

Like the Loud Family's Scott Miller, Davies makes songwriting seem a complete doddle. Whereas less talented songwriters might crowd a song with clunky lyrics and noodly melodic digressions, Barbarians showcases Davies' effortless ability to extract straightforward hooks from guitar strings, with no extraneous nonsense to get in the way.

Despite the fact that Barbarians never provides an ear-melting classic like Telegraph's "Canteen," I'm more than satisfied bugging out to the dominating echo that becomes a melody during the flawless "Palo Alto," or the twanged and cracked arpeggios of the album's opener, "Coldest Day." "The Kiss Off" exhibits paisley influences with a bassline that recalls the Incredible String Band's lysergic hey-nonney-no. And who could not be impressed with "May," a song so striking it could have been part of Tim Buckley's Dream Letter set?

When I saw Davies perform in a tiny D.C. club, he filled the room with his panache. He didn't need to fall back on studio trickery. Up on the slightly raised stage, he flaunted his gift and his unmistakable love of music. Barbarians is a wake-up call to all those who labor in studios for a unique, fuzzing guitar sound. If your songwriting goes to eleven like Richard Davies' does, you just need to be heard, and certainly do not deserve to be left on the prefabricated chip-board of under-appreciation.

-Paul Cooper